


ding dong (you) merrily on high

by thunderylee



Category: Kis-My-Ft2 (Band)
Genre: Ageplay, Animal Play, Bodies and Body Parts, Canon Universe, Consent Play, Danger, Dress Up, Drugs, Facials, Gangbang, Multi, Orgy, Phone Sex, Piercings, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Student/Teacher Roleplay, Tentacles, Voyeurism, established miyatama, sleepy/unconscious
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-25
Updated: 2012-12-25
Packaged: 2019-01-18 06:28:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12382752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thunderylee/pseuds/thunderylee
Summary: Tamamori wants to give up control.





	ding dong (you) merrily on high

**Author's Note:**

> reposted from agck. written for kink bingo (picture frame: see tags).

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Miyata asks gently, soft brown eyes blinking in concern as he takes Tamamori by the hand.

“Yes,” Tamamori says firmly. He’s scared out of his mind, but he’s gotten really good at not showing it. “I trust you.”

“Once you’re under,” Miyata begins, pausing to swallow hard, “you won’t be coherent enough to consent to anything.”

Tamamori rolls his eyes. “I’m consenting right now. Do you want me to sign something? You wouldn’t let anything bad happen to me, Toshiya.”

“You don’t have to do this,” Miyata tells him. “We can just, you know, pretend—”

“That’s not the same at all,” Tamamori cuts him off. “I’m not that good of an actor, at least when it comes to this kind of stuff. I have to really feel it, and I know you want me to really feel it, too.”

Miyata averts his eyes, his cheeks turning the faintest pink. “Don’t do it just for me.”

“I’m doing it for the both of us,” Tamamori says, grabbing both of Miyata’s hands in his own; they’re shaking. “And it’s going to be _so_ good, Toshiya. So good.”

“Okay,” Miyata says slowly, but his hesitance is refuted when Tamamori leans forward to kiss him and Miyata responds more than forcefully. It’s rougher than usual, even, though Tamamori just knows he’s thinking about having Tamamori completely under his control, bending to his will without a right mind to do anything about it.

Tamamori can’t wait until he no longer has an instinct to struggle.

*

It’s not the kind of club either of them frequent, but it’s the only place they can do this without being recognized. The costumes help, making it even more thrilling because he can’t actually see Miyata’s face. He knows what kind of mask the other is wearing, of course, which is the only thing keeping him from freaking out.

This is why he needs the pills, he reasons. He’s never really been able to just _let go_ and have a good time. He knows the other members of his group screw around with each other, not to mention everyone else in the agency, but he can’t bring himself to join in. To him it’s uncomfortable; it’s shameful. Even after Miyata spent _years_ breaking down his walls and finally stealing his heart, Tamamori still can’t enjoy raw, unadulterated sex fueled by nothing but lust and passion where the dirtier you get, the better it is. And he hates it.

He refuses to call them drugs, even though that’s exactly what they are. He doesn’t know the name of them, or how they’re classified—and he doesn’t want to—just that they’re illegal in basically every country in the world and both he and Miyata could lose their jobs and probably go to jail if they’re caught with them. Miyata had taken it upon himself to obtain them and Tamamori doesn’t want to know how that happened, either; since Miyata was more apprehensive about this than Tamamori himself was, he’s confident that Miyata did his research and made sure there wouldn’t be any unfavorable reactions or lasting side-effects.

“They’re like roofies, only it doesn’t knock you out completely,” Miyata had told him, and that’s all Tamamori wanted to hear.

Now he just sits on a brightly colored couch in an underground sex club, waiting for Miyata to come back with their drinks. Every single person around him is engaged in some type of lewd act, whether it’s by themselves, with another person, or with several other people, but Tamamori’s not that bothered by it. It’s only uncomfortable when he’s involved, though he does get a little anxious as the sights and sounds begin to arouse him.

“Wouldn’t have pegged you as a voyeur,” Miyata’s voice appears out of nowhere, making Tamamori jump and close his legs tightly.

“We’ve never watched anyone else before,” Tamamori points out as he accepts his drink, paying no attention to the way it fizzes. It occurs to him then that Miyata could get arrested if someone saw him slip the pill in his drink, but when he turns around to point it out, the nose of Miyata’s tengu mask pokes him in the face and all he can do is let out a nervous laugh.

“Which one do you like the most?” Miyata asks, voice low in his ear, and Tamamori looks around. “Seems there’s a big variety here.”

“I’ll say,” Tamamori agrees. In their immediate vicinity are straight couples, gay couples of both sexes, groups of mixed and same sex, and all kinds of costumes and drag. Tamamori sees a man dressed as a princess and frowns; he’d wanted to go that route, but Miyata didn’t think it was wise to call more attention to them than necessary. All sexual apprehensions aside, Tamamori has absolutely no problem crossdressing thanks to his job.

Tamamori makes a small noise when his eyes lock on a pair of men across the room, one on his knees in front of the other giving the sloppiest blowjob outside of pornography. While Tamamori knows from experience that licking all around the shaft and mouthing the head is nothing but a tease, it sure looks nice being done on this complete stranger whose cock is so hard that Tamamori can see the vein even at a distance.

“Oh, you like this one,” Miyata whispers, and Tamamori shivers. “He looks like he’s ready to come, doesn’t he?”

“Toshiya…” Tamamori whines, feeling the anxiety come on faster than normal, fueled by Miyata’s hands slipping under his shirt. “Toshiya, I can’t—”

“Take a drink,” Miyata hisses into his neck, his deep voice going straight into Tamamori’s pants. “You’ll feel better.”

He almost sounds evil, like he really was trying to drug Tamamori unsuspectingly, and a rush of arousal floods him because it’s so _hot_. He _loves_ Miyata’s sadistic side, even if he hasn’t been able to indulge it any more than some light-hearted roleplay and roughhousing. He can only imagine how much Miyata is getting off on him like this right now, and how much better it will be when he’s completely helpless.

“Kanpai,” Tamamori says, tossing back the entire drink so fast he can barely taste it. There’s barely any alcohol in it because Tamamori’s an awful drunk; they’d tried that first, naturally, until they learned that liquor makes Tamamori even more reserved and much pissier about it when provoked. Miyata likened him to a feral cat who hisses when you get too close.

Whatever it is, it takes effect immediately. Gravity weighs him down and he slumps back into Miyata’s arms, which hold onto him firmly and prop him up enough to keep watching. That’s all he sees now, the other patrons in their own worlds of lust, each suck and lick and thrust surging through his bloodstream until all he knows is his own need.

“Are you okay?” Miyata asks, and it feels like his voice alone is penetrating Tamamori’s body.

Tamamori rolls his head to the side, squinting to look through the slits in his mask at Miyata, his hand crawling over to Miyata’s knee without a second thought. “Mm.”

“I want to see your face,” Miyata whispers. “And feel your skin.”

“We can get a room,” Tamamori says, slurring a little. He frowns as his mouth won’t move the way he wants it to. “I can’t talk well.”

“I can understand you,” Miyata assures him, hands sliding under Tamamori’s shirt to press to his abdomen. “I have a better idea.”

“Mm, yeah.” Tamamori arches back against him, hips lifting when just the tips of Miyata’s fingers slip past his waistband. “Toshiya, don’t stop.”

“I don’t plan on it,” Miyata says, scooting close enough for Tamamori to gasp at the hardness pressed into his back. “I’m going to get you off right here in front of everyone.”

“Hurry,” Tamamori insists, the man across the room now fisting the other’s hair, fucking his mouth and Tamamori’s hands drop to his belt, ready to take care of this himself.

“Fuck, Yuuta,” Miyata growls into the back of his neck, quickly swatting Tamamori out of the way as he unfastens Tamamori’s pants enough to shove a hand inside, wrapping warm fingers around his length. “You’re so hard.”

All Tamamori can do is moan, falling limp against Miyata’s shoulder as all of his energy seems to accumulate in his cock. “Feels good.”

“Yeah?” Miyata replies, squeezing a little harder; Tamamori whimpers and Miyata groans. “We don’t have to go to a hotel, you know. We have friends with their own apartments.”

Tamamori gasps, the two men in front of his eyes replaced with visions of people he actually knows. “Kitamitsu and Yokoo-san.”

He fumbles over both of their names, but Miyata just hums into his neck, mouthing his way up to his ear. “I know they’re hanging out at Kitamitsu’s tonight. Do you want to go? I bet they would love to see you like this.”

“I want…” Tamamori starts, completely losing his train of thought with each stroke of Miyata’s firm hand. “Kitamitsu’s ass.”

Miyata laughs, a deep, hearty sound followed by a pleased moan. “He does have a very nice ass. I haven’t had it, but I hear it’s good.”

Thinking about how good Kitayama’s ass could be has Tamamori twitching in Miyata’s fist. “Let’s go,” Tamamori hisses, flailing his arms in an unsuccessful attempt to move. Apparently his motor skills aren’t working that well, either.

“Not so fast,” Miyata tells him, then something flat and metal is placed against his ear. “You should ask first. It’s only polite.”

Tamamori heads a ringing sound and moans again, not bothering to stop when someone answers. “Hey Miyacchi, what’s up? I thought you said you couldn’t hang tonight.”

“Not Miyacchi,” Tamamori says, though his tongue is so thick in his mouth that he’s surprised he can enunciate at all.

“Tama-chan!” Kitayama exclaims, his voice even lower and huskier than Miyata’s. “I can barely hear you. Are you at a club?”

“Tell him what we’re doing,” Miyata whispers into Tamamori’s other ear, following his words with his tongue.

“Everyone is having sex,” Tamamori says, followed by a frustrated whine as Miyata slows down his rhythm. “I want to have sex, too. I want to have sex with _you_.”

Miyata’s groan vibrates one ear while Kitayama’s hitched breath tickles the other. “What?”

“You heard me,” Tamamori mumbles, his words getting even more incomprehensible as Miyata rubs the head of his cock. “I want your ass so badly.”

“Where’s Miyata?” Kitayama asks suddenly, though he sounds much more guilty than concerned. “Does he know you have his phone?”

“He’s right behind me with his hand in my pants,” Tamamori answers, and Miyata moves faster, tonguing the piercing at the top of Tamamori’s ear and pulling another moan from his lungs. “It feels so good, but I bet you’d feel better.”

Kitayama inhales audibly. “ _Shit_.”

“Tell him what you want to do to him,” Miyata orders, his voice becoming much more authoritative with each command he gives. “ _Exactly_ what you want to do.”

“I want to bend you over your couch and fuck you into it,” Tamamori says into the phone, his body jerking even more sharply as he gets close. “I want to fuck you so hard that my balls slap against your ass and all you can do is scream my name.”

“Oh my god,” Kitayama breathes. “I had no idea you had such a filthy mouth.”

Tamamori would smirk if he could move his face muscles. “Do you like it?”

“Fuck yes.” Kitayama lets out a small moan of his own and Tamamori nearly comes from the sound alone. “Keep going. I want to hear you finish.”

“Almost,” Tamamori promises, fighting to focus his vision on the two men again. He can barely see them now, but it’s clear enough to know that the one being sucked off is fisting the other’s hair, pulling him back enough to release right onto his face in streams of pearly white, and that’s as much as Tamamori can take. “Ah, I’m coming!”

Miyata pulls him off the rest of the way, rescuing the phone when Tamamori shudders in orgasm, his mouth attached to the shell of Tamamori’s ear to suck around the piercing. He doesn’t bother to pull away when he holds the phone close enough to say “we’re on our way” before disconnecting.

Meanwhile, Tamamori falls boneless against Miyata and barely notices that his pants are open, almost pushing up his mask to rub his face before Miyata stops him. Miyata’s the one who fixes his pants and helps him up, mostly dragging him to the car because Tamamori has a hard time putting one foot in front of the other, let alone walking in a straight line.

“Hey,” Tamamori says once they get in the car, happily pulling off his mask and Miyata’s as Miyata straps him into the passenger seat like a child. He’d borrowed his parents’ car, not wanting Tamamori on a train in his condition, though Tamamori sees another benefit of it now. “I hear it’s good while you’re driving.”

“What’s good?” Miyata asks, a bit distracted as he turns over the engine and pulls out into late evening traffic.

“Road head,” Tamamori answers bluntly as his hand drifts over to Miyata’s lap.

“That’s not very safe,” Miyata protests, but he makes no move to stop Tamamori from rubbing the crotch of his pants where he’s already rock hard.

“If you tell me to do it, I will,” Tamamori says, fumbling with the lock on his seat belt until it finally clicks. “I’ll do anything you say.”

“Mm, Yuuta, do it,” Miyata breathes, his fingers already in Tamamori’s hair to guide him before Tamamori even leans over the console. “Suck me off with that gorgeous mouth of yours.”

Flattery gets him everywhere and Tamamori rushes to comply, opening Miyata’s pants with clumsy hands and pulling out his cock. It’s already wet at the tip and Tamamori flicks out his tongue, drinking in the familiar taste of Miyata as his head is pushed further down.

“Fuck, yes,” Miyata hisses, snapping his hips a little bit to thrust deeper into Tamamori’s mouth. “Oh my god, this is so fucking dangerous.”

The grip on Tamamori’s hair isn’t hard and he leans back to lick the head, pressing his tongue into the slit and feeling aroused all over again when Miyata whimpers. “Eyes on the road, Toshiya.”

“They…they are,” Miyata gasps, and Tamamori wishes he could see Miyata’s face right now, see how much he’s straining to keep his eyes open and focused. He’s always wanted to see Miyata’s face in the height of ecstasy, but Tamamori’s usually too far gone himself to appreciate it. Maybe tonight he’ll get his wish. Nikaido has a pretty mouth; it would look nice around Miyata’s cock.

Not as nice as Tamamori’s, he adds inwardly as he goes down as far as he can and pulls a strangled moan from Miyata that he can feel through his cock. Miyata’s fingers tighten, his thighs trembling, and Tamamori only hopes that they’re not approaching a red light or a turn as he swallows around the head and Miyata cries out, pulsing hot and bitter down his throat.

Miyata doesn’t even jerk the wheel, though he’s gripping it so hard that his knuckles are practically white when Tamamori looks up from his lap, not even trying to move. “Mm, tasty.”

“That was so terrifying,” Miyata says, gasping for air, and Tamamori believes him because he can hear Miyata’s racing heartbeat all the way down there. “And so _hot_.”

Tamamori hums happily, tracing the lines of Miyata’s abdomen as he curls up just like this, letting his eyes fall shut to the soothing sounds the engine running and Miyata’s breathing. A little catnap won’t hurt.

*

The first thing Tamamori registers upon waking is that he’s being carried on something rather bumpy, the strong scent of Miyata’s cologne mixed with his shampoo infiltrating his senses. He tightens his arms around Miyata’s shoulders, pressing his face into the damp hair on the back of his neck.

The second thing is questionable noises on a TV, followed by Miyata asking, “Are you watching tentacle porn?”

“Kenpi’s never seen it,” is Nikaido’s defensive reply.

This is followed by an undignified squawk that Tamamori is willing to bet came from Senga. Tamamori’s also willing to bet that this particular DVD came from Nikaido’s own private collection.

“The uncensored stuff is so much better,” Fujigaya scoffs, though his breath is a bit hitched. “Japan is so prude.”

“Stop _talking_ ,” Kitayama hisses, followed by a groan that has Tamamori squirming on Miyata’s back. He’d like to lift his head and see Senga’s scandalized face for himself, not to mention whatever has Fujigaya and Kitayama so breathless, but now none of his body parts are listening to him.

“Miyacchi has his own tentacle monster anyway,” Nikaido points out, and Miyata’s shoulders shake with laughter.

Tamamori makes a faint growling noise, which is as good as he can do, and Miyata laughs. “I guess I do. He’s subdued right now, though.”

“Jesus, Miyacchi, how much did you give him?” Yokoo asks, footsteps coming closer until there’s a thin hand with long, long fingers pushing his hair out of his face.

“Just one,” Miyata says. “He fell asleep in the car, so I think that intensified the high.”

“One whole pill?!” Yokoo exclaims. “Those are supposed to be split in half!”

A pause. “Oops.”

“Let me take him,” Yokoo says, and Tamamori feels Miyata tighten his grip possessively. “It’s okay. I’ll be good to him, I promise.”

“Wataru is very gentle,” Fujigaya inputs, his voice breaking.

“Taisuke, I swear to god if you don’t shut the fuck up—”

Kitayama’s cut off by a deep moan that could only come from him, and Tamamori manages to open his eyes during the transition from Miyata to Yokoo. It’s only for a second, but it’s long enough to see Fujigaya moving against Kitayama on the couch, his pants around his thighs and Kitayama’s legs up to his chest as they both stare at the TV. Tamamori frowns as he realizes that Kitayama didn’t wait for him, though he’s in no condition to make good on his words anyway.

“What’s wrong?” Yokoo asks once gravity has shifted and they’re curled up in Kitayama’s armchair, Tamamori in Yokoo’s arms that rock him like a very large child. It feels nice, relaxing, more of his coherence returning with each brush of those fingers through his hair.

Tamamori mumbles something in return, but it’s unintelligible. Yokoo just holds him close and presses a kiss to his forehead, sending warmth throughout Tamamori’s limp body, though he doesn’t stop there. Those lips attack his face and he turns toward the touch, rolling his head as much as he can to catch them with his own.

“Good boy,” Yokoo whispers, his voice giving Tamamori a shiver that he knows the other man feels. “Now lift your head.”

That doesn’t happen, at least not at first. Tamamori tries, but it’s too heavy. After a few failed attempts, Yokoo wedges his hand between Tamamori’s neck and his own arm to nudge him up. Even with Yokoo’s help, his head is still weighing him down. It would be frustrating if Yokoo wasn’t so patient, eyes locked only on him despite all of the dubious behavior in the room.

“Just like that…just a little more…” Yokoo whispers, gradually lifting Tamamori’s head until he’s sitting straight up. “There you go. Keep your eyes open.”

Tamamori blinks and attempts to gather his equilibrium, if he has any. It’s not until he starts to fall backwards that he realizes Yokoo’s support had left him, and there aren’t any reactionary instincts in place to stop him. Two hands grab him right before he hits the arm of the chair, sending his head back a little further than is necessarily comfortable as he’s brought back up again.

“Tama-chan,” Yokoo says sternly. “I need you to sit up now like a big boy.”

Something about the way Yokoo’s talking to him has his skin tingling, the only thing it seems to be able to do right now. He wants to do what Yokoo says, to make him proud, but his body is just not cooperating. He would apologize, but the words won’t leave his throat.

Lips press against his cheeks again and they’re soft. Tamamori is drawn to them, chasing them after they leave his skin, and Yokoo gasps as Tamamori bumps his face with his nose. “There you go! I knew you could do it.”

Tamamori manages to smile a little, shakily rubbing his nose across Yokoo’s face until he finds Yokoo’s, then moves forward with his mouth. He’s off the mark, but it’s close enough and Yokoo’s hand cups his face, tilting his head as he kisses him gently. It takes a few licks to get Tamamori’s lips open, and he doesn’t even bother to move his tongue at first. He works up to it, more and more of his motor controls returning the more Yokoo kisses him.

“Damn, that’s hot,” someone breathes from next to them, and Tamamori blindly reaches out one shaky arm because it’s Miyata. Fingers lace with his and Tamamori kisses Yokoo harder, now able to hold his own even if Yokoo’s still holding onto his face.

A filthy moan sounds from across the room and Tamamori pulls away, blinking as his eyes adjust to the light and focus on where Fujigaya had just stilled on top of Kitayama. Kitayama, however, doesn’t look too happy and shoves Fujigaya to the floor, whining in frustration as he rocks back and forth on the couch, not bothering to lower his legs. Tamamori feels a surge of arousal and starts to go to him, but he misjudges the floor and falls right off the chair, landing halfway on Miyata.

“I got you,” Miyata says, pushing Tamamori’s hair out of his face, and Tamamori seeks out the familiarity of Miyata’s kiss as well as his touch. He ends up with his back to the hard floor, but that’s okay because Miyata’s on top of him, limbs weaving together as they lick into each other’s mouths. Tamamori feels other hands on him but isn’t bothered by them, moaning when it feels good and seeking out more of it when it feels _really_ good.

“He’s like a puppy,” Nikaido says, and Tamamori swats at him in retaliation. “Aw, but a cute one!”

“He’s _my_ puppy,” Miyata mumbles against Tamamori’s lips; it sounds much better when Miyata says it.

Nikaido’s fingers lift to Tamamori’s neck. “In that case, you should get him a collar so everyone knows he belongs to you.”

“Maybe I will,” Miyata says, making Tamamori’s body temperature rise at the thought.

“Hi, Tama-chan,” Senga whispers into his ear, running all ten fingers up and down his chest, pulling his shirt up in the process, and Tamamori shivers as he falls out of Miyata’s mouth. Senga pulls off his shirt and kisses him upside-down, which takes a bit of getting used to and by the time he does, he realizes his arms have been pinned behind his head by Senga’s.

Now it’s Nikaido’s hands all over him, fingers splayed to cover more distance as he eyeballs Senga like they share a secret. Tamamori finds out soon enough when Senga’s tongue is replaced by two fingers and Tamamori feels like the animated girl on TV who’s all wrapped up and penetrated by tentacles.

Another body curls up to his, but he’s not the one who’s kissed and Tamamori leans up to find Fujigaya licking his way into Miyata’s mouth, the latter fisting Fujigaya’s hair and making him whimper. It’s interesting to watch Miyata get rough with someone else, not to mention _hot_. It gets hotter the more Tamamori is touched, someone’s hands now opening his pants and pulling down the rest of his clothes with absolutely no protest from Tamamori himself. As long as they don’t stop touching him, they can do whatever they want.

“Hey,” Kitayama says suddenly, shoving everyone out of the way to straddle Tamamori’s waist. “I believe I was promised a hard fuck, even if I have to do all of the work because you’re fucked up.”

“Give…my hands,” Tamamori sputters, his voice coming back in small spurts as he pulls a little against Senga’s restraints. It’s the most control he’s had all night, and he finds himself a little sad that the pill is wearing off so soon.

Kitayama doesn’t wait for him to be freed, just rolls a condom onto his cock and hops on it, still stretched from his romp with Fujigaya. A strangled moan forces its way out of Tamamori’s throat as he sinks all the way into Kitayama, feeling that ass all around him. He wouldn’t have pegged Kitayama as a rider, but those accent dances weren’t all for naught and Tamamori’s hips automatically thrust up each time Kitayama rocks down.

“Mm, Tama-chan,” Kitayama gasps, and Tamamori regains enough force to snatch his arms back and latch his hands onto Kitayama’s thighs. He feels the muscles flex under his fingers and plants his feet flat on the floor, pushing up into Kitayama hard enough to make him bounce. “Ah, just like that.”

“Mitsu, your _ass_ ,” Tamamori gets out, his hands moving back to squeeze the flesh in question and pulling him down in contrast to his own actions. “Fuck.”

“Go ahead,” Nikaido’s hissing behind him, probably trying to whisper but failing.

“Shouldn’t we ask Miyacchi first?” is Senga’s worried response.

“Miyacchi,” Nikaido calls over his shoulder, and Miyata looks over from where Fujigaya’s mouthing his way down his chest. “Can Kenpi have Tama-chan’s mouth?”

Miyata growls low in his throat, which has Tamamori pounding up into Kitayama. “If Yuuta wants it.”

“Tama-chan can’t make his own decisions right now,” Yokoo speaks up from somewhere Tamamori can’t see. “You have to answer for him.”

“Okay, but…” Miyata pauses a moan as Fujigaya sucks his cock past his lips, and Tamamori can finally see his face like this. “Don’t come in his mouth.”

Instantly Tamamori’s head is turned, his jaw rubbed as something smooth and wet is pressed against his lips, and Tamamori just parts his lips for Senga’s length. The angle is awkward but Senga doesn’t seem to want it that deep, breaths heavy and thighs trembling just from Tamamori sucking on the head. Then he feels fingers trailing up the back of his thigh and they both moan, Tamamori’s setting off Senga’s as his legs are pushed up for whoever is stretching him.

The fingers are long, which means it’s either Yokoo or Nikaido, and Nikaido’s up here with Senga. Yokoo knows what he’s doing and Tamamori can’t stop moaning, finally getting the touch he’s been craving all night. He quickly eases Tamamori’s body into accepting three fingers before pulling out, both hands on his knees as he presses inside and Tamamori doesn’t think he’s ever felt so full in his life with three of them on him at once.

“You look so hot like this,” Miyata whispers in his ear, panting a little from his own stimulation. “Are you still high?”

Tamamori doesn’t know the answer to that, and even if he did, he couldn’t speak it. He doesn’t feel as out of control as before, though his apprehensions haven’t returned, either. As far as he’s concerned, the latter can stay away; he likes it much better when he can do these things without reservations.

“I love you,” Miyata whispers next, and it’s so out of place in the middle of filthy group sex that Tamamori actually detaches one of his hands from Kitayama’s ass to reach for Miyata’s. Their fingers lace together and Miyata’s breaths get heavier, his mouth accosting Tamamori’s ear again and licking his cartilage piercing.

Senga’s cock muffles Tamamori’s moan, though this time it doesn’t stop as everything just starts to become too much. Yokoo has pulled Kitayama back against him, hand curled around his erection, pulling him off, and Tamamori can tell that Kitayama’s going to come right before he does. His body squeezes impossibly tight around Tamamori, who’s still moving inside him and arching from the pressure that accumulates inside him.

“Where…” Senga gasps. “Where should I come?”

“On his face,” Nikaido answers, and Miyata doesn’t stop him. Senga pulls out of Tamamori’s mouth and strokes himself off right there, smearing Tamamori’s cheeks and lips with his release. Tamamori remembers the two men in the sex club and wonders if Miyata likes watching this as much as Tamamori had liked watching that, the fluid warm on his skin as Senga falls to the side beside him.

“My turn,” Nikaido says, taking Senga’s place and pointing his cock at Tamamori’s face. Tamamori opens his mouth obediently, but Nikaido shakes his head. “I’m too close. I’m gonna come.”

Tamamori closes his eyes, because Nikaido has absolutely no aim and gets it all over the place, including a streak across Tamamori’s nose and a little bit in his hair. But then there’s a deep groan next to him, and Tamamori turns his neck in time to watch Miyata arch and toss his head back, mouth parted and eyes squeezed shut as he grips Fujigaya’s hair with both hands and snaps his hips up into his mouth.

After that, Tamamori can’t hold back another second, his own back arching as he grabs Kitayama by the hips and thrusts deep into him. Yokoo’s still fucking Tamamori dutifully, taking them both over the edge as the final two fall still, and suddenly the world stops moving.

One by one the physical contact leaves him, Kitayama rolling off and Yokoo pulling back, smoothing down his legs on the way. Nikaido has flopped onto Senga, both of them returning to the anime for lack of anything better to watch, and Fujigaya’s making a beeline for Kitayama’s bathroom, probably to wash out his mouth.

Just when Tamamori’s about to feel cold, a hot tongue laps at his chest, continuing up to his face and Tamamori scrunches up his features as he’s cleaned like a dog. “Now who’s a puppy?” he mumbles.

“After this, I’ll be whatever you want,” Miyata tells him, his tongue continuing right into Tamamori’s mouth, and Tamamori makes a face at tasting three other guys’ come. “Ah, you’re coming back around.”

Tamamori stretches and cringes at his sore muscles, and not just in the obvious areas. “I still don’t think I can move.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” Miyata says, and Tamamori smiles as he closes his eyes.

*

“Majima-kun, you should really start thinking about your future,” Miyata says gently, his pitying look making Tamamori want to punch him in the face. “You can’t just keep fighting like this forever.”

“Why, so I can end up like you?” he barks back, kicking over a chair just to watch Miyata jump from the sudden noise. “ _Sensei_ , you don’t deserve the title.”

Miyata’s polite smile twitches. “Now there’s no reason to get nasty—”

“Do you even have any balls?” Tamamori asks point-blank, and Miyata gapes at him. “You’re such a pushover, letting these brats get away with everything all the time. Where’s your leadership? Your authority? I bet you wouldn’t be able to stop me if I ran at you. What kind of teacher can’t control his students?”

“You can say whatever you want,” Miyata says evenly. “I’m here to guide you, not discipline you.”

Tamamori fills with rage and crosses the room, not removing his hands from the pockets of his uniform pants until he’s standing right in front of Miyata. He’s got a few good inches on him, but Miyata can hold his gaze unwavering, and the longer they stare at each other, the angrier Tamamori gets.

“Should I address what this is really about?” Miyata asks quietly, “or do you want to keep on pretending?”

“You piss me off,” Tamamori mutters, but his fingers are already twisting in Miyata’s tie.

“Because you want me to fight with you?” Miyata lifts a hand to Tamamori’s dark spiked hair. “Or because you want me to fuck you?”

His tie serves as a good pull tab, their mouths fusing together as Tamamori yanks him close, backing them up against the desk so hard that the legs screech against the hardwood floor. Miyata gives it back just as forceful, spinning them around and bending Tamamori over the desk, sending a container of pens flying. Instantly Miyata’s hands are all over him, his chest pressed against Tamamori’s back as Tamamori braces himself with both hands and pushes back. He feels Miyata hard against his ass and does it again, pulling a low groan from Miyata’s lungs that’s pressed right into his spine through his uniform blazer.

“Is this what you want, Kenji, is it?” Miyata hisses, and all Tamamori can do is nod as those hands unbuckle his belt and push down his pants. “You want me to control you?”

“If you think you can,” Tamamori snaps back, followed by a moan as Miyata wraps strong fingers around his cock.

Miyata chuckles darkly. “Hard already? I guess you like me after all.”

“Shut up,” Tamamori grumbles.

“Shut up and what?” Miyata asks, grinding hard against Tamamori’s bare ass as he lifts one of Tamamori’s knees onto the desk and teases his rim with dry fingers. “What do you want me to do to you?”

“Shut up and _fuck me_ , Koba,” Tamamori growls.

The next time Miyata touches him, his fingers are slick. “You should really show some respect if you want me to do what you want.”

“ _Sensei_ ,” Tamamori snarls, but then Miyata’s swirling a finger inside him and all he can do is moan. “ _Sensei_.”

“That’s right,” Miyata says gently, stretching Tamamori more easily than usual. “You’re pretty loose, have you been letting others do this to you?”

“No,” Tamamori insists, shaking his head. “I…myself.”

Miyata’s groan has him throbbing deep inside where those fingers can barely reach. “Were you thinking of me?”

“Yes.” Tamamori pushes back to feel more, his lower half starting to shudder from the awkward position. “Do it, sensei, please.”

“Since you asked so nicely,” Miyata says, then his fingers are replaced with his cock and the desk scrapes against the floor even more from Miyata’s rough thrusting. His hand is still on Tamamori, fisting him fast and hard because he never lasts long like this; neither one of them do. Tamamori spills over Miyata’s fingers with a sharp cry, and Miyata growls Tamamori’s real first name as he follows, pulling Tamamori back off the desk and into his arms before he’s even done pulsing inside him.

“Toshiya,” Tamamori says breathlessly, slumping in Miyata’s embrace.

“Hmm?”

“Do you think our sex life is too wild?”

Miyata snorts. “You won’t even step foot in the dungeon section of the adult store.”

“Because it’s scary!” Tamamori replies, finding the energy to hop back into his pants. “All of those chains and…paddles.”

“We don’t need those things, anyway,” Miyata tells him, sneaking a kiss before they break apart. “We have our own hands and very active imaginations.”

“And sometimes enhancements,” Tamamori adds, a little sheepishly.

Miyata smirks. “And freaks for bandmates.”

“Hey,” Tamamori says suddenly, because he rarely says it and right now he feels like it, even if they’re in the middle of a (hopefully) empty school building. “I love you.”

It will always look dumb because Tamamori’s taller, but Miyata slings an arm around him and leads him out into the hallway. “You get an A.”


End file.
